The White Fox Chronicles
by Fastpitch Devil
Summary: The White Fox Chronicles x-men evo style. It's the year 2057, years of war have torn the USA apart, and enslaved mutants and humans alike...
1. prologue

**The book The White Fox Chronicles was actually written by Gary Paulsen, so I don't own it or anything, also the marvel characters don't belong to me, though I wish they did so it's a waste of time suing me cause I'm broke. I'll try and explain things along the way, so please try and be nice. I'll give you a quick summary,**

_The year is 2057, endless wars between human and mutant kind have torn the USA apart and enslaved mutants and resisters to the evil FoH (friends of humanity). Growing up during the time of war has made 14 year old Scott Summers wise in survival skills. Now he's the Cyclops, rebel leader of the children's barracks in a FoH prison camp. Scott manages a escape, then begins to play a game of cat and mouse with the FoH. Every day he gets closer to capture, but closer as well to his goal- to return and liberate the children he left behind._

**This will be very close to the story, I will be using a lot of the dialogue and actions. I will try and add some extra stuff in, but I don' want to ruin the plot, so bear with me. Please no flames, I have a bad enough self esteem problem, as well as a broken finger to deal with already. Enjoy, and don't forget to review my upcoming chapters.**

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Cody Pierce – Scott Summers

Colonel Sidorn – Colonel Edward Kelly

Luther Swift – Forge

Franklin Stubbs - Warren Worthington

Major Toni McLaughlin – Major Ororo Monroe

Tasha - Katherine "Kitty" Pryde

Rachel Vega – Jean Grey

Major Jake Christmas – Major Logan Smith

Captain Doug Landers – Captain Lance Alvers

Davey - Jamie Madrox

Damian - Bobby Drake

Matt - Roberto Da Costa

Nick Trusillo - Ray Crisp

Trisha – Rogue

Patch - Dorian Leech

Yuri -Nick Fury

Gollgath - Jason Wyngarde

Thompson - John Allerdyce

Rico Hernandez - Remy Lebeau

Martin - Pietro Maximoff

Samuel - Hank McCoy

Colonel Wyman – Colonel Charles Xavier

Anna - Taryn Fujioka

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**Well, I guess I better start on the next chapter before Megan chases me with a sharp pointy stick again, threatening me if I don't post a new chapter. Toodles.**


	2. Ch 1

**Ok here's the first chapter, Scott has control of his mutation, because it was too hard to fit the glases and visor into the story. Please review, and if you don't I will sick Megan on you and she will poke you with pointy sticks, which I may say from experience leave a nice red mark.**

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Fourteen-year-old Scott Summers stopped hoeing the rectangular patch of dirt the camp guards called a vegetable garden. Nothing really edible grew in it anyway and the quick sprouting weds could wait a bit longer.

Something was up. He could feel it in his bones. The tower guards were standing at full attention, which was highly unusual. Also those on the grounds were edging toward the main buildings.

The camp commander, Colonel Edward Kelly, bust through the door of his plush office, buttoning the shirt of his green army fatigues. An aide ran along side him holding up a hand mirror. Kelly glanced in it quickly and ran a hand through his short brown hair, then brushed the aide aside.

The lanky white-brunette boy in the vegetable garden leaned on his hoe that he had been using a second ago, watching the action through glowing red eyes.

A U.S army utility vehicle with a FoH symbol painted over the white star on the door drove down the dusty and bumpy dirt road toward the prison camp. It was soon followed by a transport truck and another utility vehicle.

Two or three guards ran from their former spots to open the gates. The three moving vehicles sped into the compound and came to a stop in a cloud of dust. The commander stood waiting by the porch he was just on.

Colonel Edward Kelly threw out his chest and tried to act like a dignified leader as he quickly made his way to the transport truck, but his anticipation gave him away.

He yelled an order and the tailgate of the transport was lowered. A soldier grabbed a small dark-skinned woman by her stunning white hair and dragged her out of the back of the truck.

Scott could see she was pretty young and badly wounded. Her white hair was matted with dried blood. One of her arms hung limply by her side.

The commander asked her a question Scott couldn't hear, but apparently the woman didn't give him the answer he wanted because he backhanded the prisoner so hard she fell against the side of the truck.

The woman didn't cry out. Instead she rose and faced her attacker in complete silence. The commander yelled another order and some of the soldiers roughly pushed the female prisoner up the steps to the interrogation room, one place you don't want to go to.

Scott untied the dirty red bandanna from around his forehead, shook his unkempt shoulder-length brown hair so that sweat flew from it, and wiped his sweaty, dirty face with the back of his hand.

He thought of the woman, he admired her spirit, but knew it was only a matter of time until they broke her. They broke everyone eventually. He knew it for a fact; he'd been in this camp for eighteen months and counting, ever since Los Angles had fallen in 2056. He had seen plenty of hard cases reduced to quivering idiots before the FoH-the friends of humanity-was through.

Still, he'd made it his business through the months he was there, to stay on top of everything that was going on, and he wondered why this one woman had them all excited.

"Don't get too curious, kid. These guys aren't playing around."

Scott shifted his gaze. Forge was carrying a bucket filled with human/mutant waste in each hand. It was his job to dump the makeshift toilets used in all the barracks every morning and evening. In between those times he dug temporary latrines and covered them up with dirt whenever they became full.

Forge was an inventor, practically a genius. He was a fairly handsome man before the FoH gorged out his right eye because he refused to tell them the location of a laboratory he used to work in. They got their information in the end.

"You know me Forge," Scott said, trying not to let the soldiers see his lips move. "I always mind my own business."

It was against the prison camp rules for prisoners to talk to each other, so Forge continued walking like Scott had never said anything. Quietly he muttered, "Make sure that you keep it that way. I don't really feel like picking up your broken pieces today."

Scott started working again. He thought about his life in the old days, before the takeover and wondered if anyone on the outside knew he was still alive.

The FoH had control of more than ¾ of the U.S.A and its members considered themselves intellectually and physically superior to everyone else, especially mutants.

The FoH mad their intentions seem harmless, they were able to buy property and plant soldiers and spies in strategic locations, until everything was ready for the takeover.

The first missile took out Washington, D.C, and most of Virginia as well. The president, Congress, and the Pentagon simply ceased to exist. Without any leadership of any kind, the states began to panic and one by one fell.

The United States government had made it too easy for them.

Bombings and mass murder had whipped out whole cities. Except for small rebel hideouts scattered here and there, the FoH had succeeded in turning citizens of the most powerful nation in the world into little more than the slaves of their new republic.

Kelly's prison camp was not unlike hundreds of others in the nation. There were twenty barracks in the compound, and more being built as we speak. One housed the commander's office and fancy living quarters. The cooks, medical personnel, and laundry were behind the office. The rest held prisoners, some human, and some mutant.

Soldiers were allowed to shoot and torture prisoners whenever they wanted. Then there were children, children of all races and ages occupied one of the barracks. Not that the soldiers didn't torture and shoot children too. But children had it a little easier. Some, which weren't mutants, were involved in a cleansing project, sort of like the one Hitler had tried with the children in Germany. They had been taken from their parents and forced to attend daily classes designed to brainwash them into the correct attitude about their new government.

Mutant children, however, went to special classes as well. They were taught to speak the new republic language, and they were taught to become living weapons for the FoH's use. Scott was the oldest, and as the FoH thought finest pupils. He went out of his way to convince them he was loyal to the cause. No one but Forge knew what he really was up to.

Scott had lost his parents one by one; his father's army plane was shot down over what once had been called Iraq. Scott's mother had been killed during the first attack on California. Scott had lived alone until he was captured. Well, not completely alone. There was Warren Worthington, a former inmate at a maximum security prison, which was hit by a bomb. He simply walked away. At the time he had been spending five years for burglary. A master safe cracker and locksmith, Warren spent his free time, when they were not scavenging for food, teaching Scott the tricks of the trade. In return, Scott let him share his home, an out-of-the-way spot under a small bridge. By day they slept to avoid patrols, and by night they went into the burned out city and looked for food. During the early hours, when it was light enough, Scott practiced his new talents. Before long he could make a lockpick out almost anything. That was before he and Warren had a run in with a FoH soldier who was looking for military hideouts. The soldier left Warren in a pool of blood, and Scott was sent off to the Prison Camp.

The memories made Scott grind his teeth. Those things happened more than a year ago. Since that time he learned to play their game, he became Slymn. The guards had practically given him the run of the camp because they trusted him so much, which was exactly what Scott wanted.


End file.
